


Last Night in Goodneighbor

by CrackingLamb



Series: Nights [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Swearing, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 22:36:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15253569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrackingLamb/pseuds/CrackingLamb
Summary: Third time's the charm...





	Last Night in Goodneighbor

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by Iron_Angel, but any and all typos are mine and mine alone.

“Stay,” Hancock pleaded, almost hating the sound of it in his own voice, yet completely unable to stop himself. Eleanor looked over her bare shoulder at him, her sky blue eyes glowing softly in the lamplight of Hancock's room, her skin fairly luminescent from it. She seemed both amused and sad at his importuning.

“I can't,” she whispered, and her eyes dropped away from his without explaining.

He stayed where he was in the bed, among the rumpled sheets and strewn about clothes that heralded another noteworthy evening in her company. Three times she had come to him, and three times it had ended up here. Hancock believed enough in the small magic of the world and the power of threes to hope that it meant she wouldn't leave this time. “Take me with you, then?”

Eleanor stood up and ran fingers through her hair, untangling it from the sweaty mess he knew he'd turned it into. He watched her move around the room with a self satisfied smirk on his lips; he knew what he did to her, and knew that no one else did it. She'd confessed that in the dark, when she thought he was asleep. No matter what else was going on between them, they had this at least.

“I wish it was that simple,” she said in reply to his offhand request. He hadn't actually expected her to consider it, she never had before. She pulled on the well worn trousers of her road leathers and turned to face him. Topless, her hair in total disarray, feet bare...she'd never looked more lovely. Or more deadly. With no weapon in sight, only her own two hands, Eleanor was still a powerhouse. Still a ruthless dispenser of justice and vengeance. Still starkly gorgeous enough to make the coldest heart melt with desire, for better or worse. He would know.

He'd gone and fallen in love with her.

“Why isn't it simple?” he asked, bringing himself back to the present with a hard mental jerk away from that wonderfully terrifying thought.

She sighed and rooted around the mess of their clothes to find her flannel shirt. “Because there are parts of my life I can't share with you.”

“I know that, Sunshine.”

“Do you?” She'd found the shirt, but not her bra. He grinned inwardly. She couldn't find the bra because he had it tight in his fist under the covers. Oh, he'd give it back to her if she seemed overly frustrated by its loss, but until then he planned to enjoy the view of her bountiful skin as long as he could.

“Eleanor, I ain't stupid. You think I don't know what people out there would say if they knew the savior of the Commonwealth was casually banging a ghoul?”

“That's...oh, Hancock, that's not it at all.” She slumped to the end of the bed, her back to him. He counted the knobs of her spine where they stood out plainly. She'd gotten dangerously thin after destroying the Institute, substituting chems and booze for food and rest. She'd come a long way back from that hellish depth, but hadn't fully recovered. Still, any excuse to look at her was a good one, so he leaned back against the pillows and watched the flickering of the lamplight dance shadows on her back.

“Tell me then, what is it?”

“I...I need to go...home.” She sighed. “There are things I need to attend to, and they'll be hard enough to do without...eyes on me.”

“My eyes in particular or anyone's?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Hey, Sunshine, I get it. We got a nice thing goin' here, no need to fuck it up with...stuff.”

She chuckled, low and dark. With a raised brow she eyed him over her shoulder again. She didn't seem upset, merely sardonic. “Is that all you think this is? A 'nice thing' that we don't want to fuck up?”

“Well...ain't it?”

With little warning, she crawled over his legs and straddled him, cupping his face in her hands. “Idiot ghoul,” she muttered before kissing him. To say he was surprised would be an understatement. He was too shocked to do anything but return the kiss, his arms wrapping around her on automatic pilot. When she pulled away, she snagged the bra from his hand with a cheeky grin. He'd forgotten entirely that he was holding it. “Yes, this is a 'nice thing' and I want to keep doing it. But...”

“But...?”

“I don't know if I'm ready to show you the other side of my life. The side that only a handful know about. I don't want...” She paused, fingers stroking across his cheekbones in a contemplative way, her eyes distant and clouding over with some emotion he couldn't name. It didn't seem aimed at him, more at herself. When she looked back to meet his steady gaze once more, she quirked a half smile. He knew what that look was now – self mockery. He hadn't ever thought to see such a look on her. “I don't want you to see me as anything but a badass, I guess. I've gotten used to the admiration in your eyes.”

“Eleanor, I'm fairly certain you could be herdin' cats in a lacy dress with high heels on, and you would still be a badass to me.” She snorted but seemed pleased nonetheless. He smiled back at her languidly, his hands rising to cup her naked breasts before she thought to get off his lap. “I _want_ to know the woman behind the stories, the badass behind the rumors. I want it all, Sunshine. Ain't nothin' gonna change my admiration for you.”

“You really want that?” she breathed, her voice catching and hitching as he brushed his thumbs across her nipples. He sat up and ran his tongue over them instead and listened to her quiet gasp. She gave so little away sometimes that every sound felt like a victory.

“I really want that. Stay...stay one more night, and then take me with you.”

“Oh Hancock...”

“Say yes,” he murmured against her skin, his mouth roving over her body where she perched on him. He laced their fingers together and pulled her down on him, the roughness of her leathers against his skin making him wonder if that was what he felt like to her. He kissed a trail up her throat to her chin and jaw before she turned her face to his and kissed him hard.

“Damn you,” she cursed, but her eyes were alight and dancing.

He grinned. “Is that a yes?”

“On your own head be it, Hancock.”

“Take off your pants, Eleanor.”

She stifled a giggle at the tone in his voice, and shuffled off of him to drop the leathers on the floor again. Naked and gleaming, she climbed back into his bed, tugging the sheets away to fully expose him. He was hard and ready, and she wasted no time sinking onto his cock with a sigh.

She rode him slow and easy, her hands on the headboard to keep her balance. He watched her throw back her head and revel in the feel of him inside her. He could watch her fuck him forever and never be tired of the sight of her, skin flushed and pink, nipples hard and begging for his touch, her eyes deep and mysterious in the shadows of the lamplight.

Her body bowed over him, changing the angle and the depth and it was his turn to gasp aloud at the feel of it. She vibrated with mirth, clenching on him, dropping her hands from the bed to the pillows next to his head, her breasts swaying in his face.

“Christ woman, you'll be the death of me,” he managed to pant out to the tune of her chuckles.

“What a way to go,” she said, equally as breathless. He couldn't stand it anymore and pushed up into her as she slammed down on him. The pace grew rougher, faster, harder. She grew tighter on his cock, tighter and wetter. The sound of her skin hitting his was a soft slapping noise that drove him wilder with each thrust. She fell forward on top of him, her breath hot against his neck as her hips rose and fell. He clutched her there, his fingers no doubt leaving an imprint in her pale skin. But she didn't complain.

He was going to come soon if she didn't stop the torture of her sliding body, and he wanted to make it last. He rolled them over, surprised that he even had the strength, and pinned her to the bed, their fingers laced together and held above her head. He tucked his knees under her, lifting her up so that her legs could either be splayed out at an impossible angle or wrapped around him like a vise. He loved how tightly she could hold on to him with those thighs and grinned down at her like the lovesick fool that he was.

“Harder, Hancock,” she begged. He gave, pounding into her, his cock hitting her right where she needed it most. Her cries became broken and voiceless, gasping sighs and straining breaths taking over for words. When she bit her bottom lip, he knew she was close. He wanted to watch her tumble over that edge, and he let go of one of her hands, snaking it between them so he could flick her clit with his thumb. She surged into his touch, shaking her head and begging him incoherently not to stop. He watched her face change as the orgasm washed over her. She cried out, and the grip of her thighs tightened on him until he almost couldn't breathe, while her core spasmed on him in wave after wave, milking him. With a groan he followed her, emptying his very soul into her body until he had nothing left to give.

“God, I love you,” he said as he collapsed across her, not even caring that he said the words aloud, or that he didn't even know if she felt remotely the same way. For an instant she tensed, but then – miracle of miracles – her arms came around him, soothing across his shoulders and back.

“Lucky for you I love you too,” she whispered with just a hint of laughter. “That could have been awkward.”

“Yeah, it coulda.” He rested on her chest, hearing her heartbeat slow into its normal rhythm. “Take me with you when you go. I don't want to be without you.”

“All right, Hancock, you finally convinced me.”

“Good,” he mumbled, sleep drawing him in. He stayed nestled in her arms and drifted off.

***

He'd packed up his things and followed her.

He'd really done it. She'd really let him.

The settlement was called Sanctuary Hills, and amidst the broken down houses with patched walls and roofs there were settlers working in gardens and in a makeshift marketplace built of raw timbers and sheet metal. The ground rumbled and he nearly jumped out of his boots when a full grown, red skinned deathclaw wandered by, tail lashing as it stalked the perimeter of the town. No one seemed to take any notice of it, so he figured it was a common sight to her settlers.

And there...

There...

“ _Mom!_ ” a young voice cried out, and Eleanor left his side at a dead run, sweeping a child into her arms with an outcry of joy.

Things she couldn't share with anyone else, she'd told him. Things no one would understand about her.

He watched her swing the boy around, his legs flying out like a fan, before she put him back on his feet and turned to introduce him.

“John Hancock, this is my son, Shaun.”

“I thought...”

“He's a synth,” she said softly, a wealth of unspoken things pouring from her eyes. He remembered her grief before she'd left him that first time to blow up the Institute. And he remembered how haggard and broken she'd returned to him afterwards. And how long she'd been gone from that time to this one. How much she had changed in the intervening weeks. She'd made her peace with something, and now he knew what it was.

“Hello, Shaun,” he said, holding out his hand for the boy to shake, which he did without hesitation. The synth child had her brown hair, sticking up in all directions the way hers did when she ran her fingers through it. But his face was not hers. It was angular and narrow, and his eyes were brown.

“It's nice to meet you, Mr. Hancock,” Shaun said politely. He turned back to his mother, a pleading look in his eyes. “Have you come to stay this time? For good?”

“Well, I don't know about 'for good', sweetheart. I still have lots to do in the Commonwealth. But, yes, we're going to stay for a while.”

“That's great, Mom! I made you some new stuff. Wanna see?”

“Absolutely.”

Hancock watched the pair go off together, their body language identical. He had questions boiling over in his mind, but he knew he would have a chance to ask them.

Eleanor had said 'we', after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if this is the end of this series or not. Any votes either way?


End file.
